A Rose for the Dead
by soulful-sin
Summary: [somewhat JC] [Epilogue to Traitor's Kiss] After Jimmy's death, there are a few things left unsaid.


Author's Note: Think of this as an epilogue to "Traitor's Kiss". Cindy curses, so beware. And, uh, despite indications, I really have no desire to write a series with a dead Jimmy. Jimmy's my favorite character, regardless of appearances.

Standard disclaimer here.

A Rose for the Dead

Cindy Vortex hugged her coat tighter to her thin frame, but received no comfort from the gesture. A few yards away, Carl and Sheen watched her charily, an inscrutable expression on their faces. After informing them of the real events transpiring before Jimmy's death, they'd wanted nothing to do with her. They refused to believe she'd striven to help him and, instead, reminded her she'd joined the boy who helped kill him. Therefore, while they accompanied her, they had their own respects to pay, not out of any kindness towards her. Once again, as had been the occurrence for six months, she was alone.

A chill wind swept the cemetery and, beyond the leaves crunching underfoot, she heard his parents approach. Swallowing hard, she moved aside to let them pass, but felt their cold eyes on her. Explaining to Carl, Sheen, and Libby what happened was a cakewalk compared to explaining why their son would never return home. Libby hadn't accompanied her there, either, telling her that this was her burden to bear. Aware she could detail it in a way ridding herself of blame; she had opted to tell the truth, which had cost her dearly. While Jimmy's parents were not ones to take legal action, they had thrown her out of the house.

Her mother had not shared their anger. Then again, Jimmy wasn't _her _son. While she certainly disapproved of Cindy's actions, she maintained that 'accidents happen'. Cindy, who would have preferred she scream at her like Judy had been on the verge of, loathed her for flippantly dismissing the issue. Yes, Jimmy was her rival before, but couldn't she afford pity for their former status as lovers? Apparently not.

"Cindy," Judy addressed icily, acknowledging her presence but not actually greeting her. Cindy peered at Jimmy's grave, still a good walking distance away, and then, reluctantly at them. She shivered, rubbing her hands along her goosepimpled arms.

"Hi," she said shyly, wishing she were anywhere but here.

"How are you?" Judy replied, but it was a perfunctory question. More likely than not, if Cindy told her 'miserable', she'd simply nod and end the conversation.

"I'm truly sorry, Mrs. Neutron," she whispered, wishing her eyes hadn't chosen that moment to swell in tears. A lump formed in her throat and she longed to fling herself on Jimmy's grave and beg forgiveness. She could have saved him…there had to be an emergency kit in the hover craft. She'd searched after his death, but, in her hysteria, found nothing. It hadn't helped that her eyes blurred with tears and she'd clutched it and his body to her insanely.

Horrible silence filled the graveyard and she thought she heard her scoff. Helplessly, she glanced up at the only person who had opted to join her, Libby. While she too had heard the story and partially blamed Cindy, she also knew there was no way to set things right. Therefore, there was no point in blaming her repeatedly, since the damage could not be undone. It was this principle that led to her presence here, though her comfort was limited to wrapping an arm around her.

Their relationship was nowhere near as close as it had been, but at least when Cindy needed her most, she picked up the phone. She'd listened to her cry more than she cared to recant.

"I know you are," Judy replied, touching her shoulder. Sweeping past the children, she and her husband offered a few words and left wordlessly.

Carl and Sheen did the same and, indicating she wanted to be alone, Cindy asked Libby to join them. She did, sparing her one last glance before departing. The silence awed her, but at the same time, caused her to sink to her knees in grief. Bereft of company, aware only "God", if he existed, could judge her, she wept unabashed and laid herself on the earth. The soil absorbed her endless sorrow.

In her hands, concealed before, was a rose. The thorns prickled her hands, but she didn't particularly notice or care. Unable to cease the flood she'd swallowed back, she laid it at his headstone. Hugging herself, she rose unsteadily to her feet and fought another onslaught. Hands trembling like the rest, she wiped her eyes, but to no avail. Seeing the stone only cemented the obvious. Jimmy was gone and nothing could bring him back. Fate was funny that way- when she tried to prevent his death, the Grim Reaper turned her back.

"Grant a rose for the dead…"

"Hello, Cynthia," a frigid, familiar voice said and she rubbed her eyes furiously, grinding her fists into them. Only one person called her by her full name- Eustace Strich. Holding a rock, he bounced it in his palm. Red rimmed, her gaze furiously scanned his intent and it sickened her. It wasn't enough he'd killed him. He had to desecrate his grave.

"What the hell is your problem?" Cindy growled, tears ebbing. "Haven't you ever heard the expression 'don't beat a dead horse'? Scum."

"If I am, then so are you," he replied nonchalantly, nodding at his invisible butler. The motion made her want to rip his throat out. Anything to make her feel better. She didn't know who she hatred more- him or her. It was a tie currently, but how apt would it be to spill blood in a cemetery? They wouldn't have to carry the body far, either. She could bash his head against a monument…but then that would be more blood on her hands…

_Jimmy…_she thought despondently. _Oh, Jimmy…_

"Come now, don't keep up this façade. It's unbecoming," he snapped snootily and she dug her nails into her palm.

"What are you talking about?" she replied, tone clipped. "I loved him. You know that. You're the bastard who-"

"And you are, to use your vernacular, the 'bitch' who helped me," he retorted, eyes sparkling mischievously. Unbridled fury flashed in her emerald eyes and he hastily retreated, certain she'd gouge his eyes out or at least deliver a great deal of pain. Visibly restraining herself, she instead seized his rock and flung it harmlessly into the bushes. A squirrel chattered angrily, disrupted from its gathering.

"What are you doing here?" she snapped, rather than responding to his accusation. "You have no right, especially after showing up during the funeral service and _laughing_."

"You play your part remarkably well," he said smoothly. "One might actually believe you cared for him."

"_Leave_," she growled, ignoring the blood her nails had produced. "I have nothing more to say to you."

"Ah, but Cynthia, I had hoped we would make a good team. Of course, you shouldn't expect to receive any pay, but if you work hard enough, maybe the blood will wash off your hands," he said, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. Cindy snarled, elbowing him hard in the stomach and, once he was on his knees, kneeing him in the face. Unfortunately, the rich boy had seen this coming and flung up his hands in self defense, preventing her from shattering his nose.

"Don't _touch _me," she spat, glaring hatefully. "And I would never work with you again, even if my life depended on it. I'd rather be dead."

Shaking his head sadly, awkwardly maneuvering himself and utilizing the stones, he assumed his former stance. He dared not put his arm around her again, however, lest she break it. In the mood she was in, it would be her pleasure.

"You know…" he murmured, struck by an idea, "the Neutrons could easily sue me for murder and bring me to court on criminal charges. They wouldn't happen to know if I was involved in their son's death, would they?"

"They want to be left alone in their grief, Strich," she replied dully, staring at the carved inscription. "They aren't going to have you arrested."

"It hardly matters, since I could simply buy off the jury anyway," he boasted, grinding the rose into the ground. Cindy shoved him away, though why the rose's condition should bother her, she had no idea. The symbolism that the rose belonged to Jimmy and it was the sole gift she could give him, perhaps. And perhaps because someone responsible for his death was trying to destroy him again. She didn't know. She knew nothing anymore.

"Can I please be alone?' she inquired and he smirked.

"As I had only come to announce my proposal, I see no need to further communicate with you. Certainly not to pay respects to that cretin," he said loftily and her eyes blazed.

"He wasn't a cretin. You didn't know him-"

"And you did? You, who betrayed him-"

"I thought it would make it better!" she cried. "You swore if I helped you once more…I did it for _him_! I loved him!"

"Funny way to show it," he replied snidely. "Permitting me to kill him."

Allowing his words to sink in and the implicit insult, he strode off and granted her her desire. The wind nudged the dogwood trees, magnolias, and whatever else they'd planted, because Cindy hadn't stopped to take stock of it all. At a cemetery, one rarely paused to contemplate the plants. Not even the rose laid on Jimmy's grave. What was a rose for the dead but a trifle?

"Jimmy…" she whispered, heart heavy and eyes burning again with unshed tears. "I wish…I wish you were alive…I wish you could hear me…I never meant for this to happen…I never…"

Falling to her knees, she murmured, "Forgive me…"

The wind caressed her cheek, toyed with her ponytail the way he used to, and momentarily, she felt feathery soft arms embrace her. Wherever he was, he had heard her.

* * *


End file.
